


Spiel mit mir

by Traumfrau



Category: Emigrate (Band), Rammstein
Genre: Anal Sex, Daddy Kink, Fluff, Just yeet me straight to Hell where I belong, M/M, Oral Sex, POV First Person, Past Drug Addiction, Polyamory, Smoking, Spanking, This was supposed to be PWP but then feelings happened
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-11
Updated: 2019-11-11
Packaged: 2021-01-27 20:30:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21398212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Traumfrau/pseuds/Traumfrau
Summary: Joe has one job on this tour. He refuses to do it properly, because Richard’s revenge is always sweet.
Relationships: Richard Kruspe/Joe Letz, Richard Kruspe/Till Lindemann
Comments: 2
Kudos: 16





	Spiel mit mir

I’m not where I’m supposed to be again.

You come stalking off the stage in a huff, not even caring that Till’s video camera is still trained on you. It’s cute, the audience gets the best view of you because they see what Till sees, and of course he can’t keep his eyes off of you.

I can’t, either.

I’m envious. Everyone knows you two are soulmates.

I’m just your assistant.

You’ve spotted me now. You’re already pissed at me, so something inside me says “fuck it,” and I raise the cigarette to my lips to light it. I take the first drag as you corner me.

“Jesus Christ, are you taking the piss right now?” you snarl.

I can’t help it. You know what it’s like. Sometimes any attention is good attention, and when you helped me get clean, I just swapped one vice for another. I’m addicted to you. And every night, I watch you watch him. I’d do anything to feel your eyes on me instead. You said it the best. “Ich will euer Blicke spüren.”

But I have your attention now. I exhale a stream of smoke right into your face as I hand the cigarette over. You rip it from my fingers and look at me in utter disgust.

“Sorry, Daddy,” I smirk.

Your eyes darken and somewhere behind my “SICK” tattoo, my insides are twisting themselves into knots. You don’t have to say anything, the unspoken promise is right there in your eyes, and suddenly I am not the one in control anymore.

* * *

We’re at the afterparty, now. You’re a little bit tipsy and you’ve invaded the DJ booth, trying to convince Khira to do to the Macarena with you. You’re so close, you’re bumping into me, and my hands are aching to reach for you, but we’re in public, and everyone is watching us, and someone has to be in charge of the music since she’s finally agreed and is too busy laughing at you because you “dance like a dad.” 

“Maybe that’s because I _am_ your dad,” you chuckle, but I swear you’re staring straight past her, eyes boring into the side of my skull, and my chest clenches. I’m in for it when we get back to the hotel, and you’re telling me in no uncertain terms, without having to speak a word. We always play this game. And I’m always happy to lose.

* * *

No one makes me feel small the way you do, Daddy. Standing straight, I have nearly a foot on you. I could use your head as an armrest. I _have_ used your head as an armrest, and have been rewarded with a playful smack in the stomach from the back of your hand.

But now we’re in your suite, and you have me cornered in an armchair, and you’re the one towering over me and I feel small, so small, like in this moment even Paul would have to lower his gaze to look me in the eyes.

“If I didn’t know any better, little unicorn, I’d think you were hiding from Daddy on purpose,” you grin darkly. I can hear it in your voice, God knows I can’t actually meet your eyes now. My heart is thudding in my ears in a way I used to have to snort a line to feel—you really are like cocaine to me.

“No, Daddy...” I hear myself say softly. “I would never hide from you.”

“Then where were you, baby?” he asks. “Daddy needed his cigarettes and you. Weren’t. There.”

I’m withering beneath you now, twisting my fingers together. “I’m sorry, Daddy. I just wanted to play.”

“Then you ask, liebchen. When have I ever denied you?”

“Never...” I mumble.

“Don’t I give you enough attention, little unicorn?”

I hesitate. Either answer will get me in trouble—do I want to be punished for lying, or for telling the truth?

The truth. The truth seems better and maybe stroking your ego will get me off the hook.

“No, Daddy.”

“No?”

“I...I want you to need me as much as I need you,” I whisper, my voice cracking awkwardly as if I really am as young as you make me feel in these stolen moments. “I want you to look at me the way you and Till look at each other.”

Your icy expression melts a bit at that. “I know, baby. Daddy does love you. But I can’t show it the way I want to. The way you want me to. You know that.”

You’re right, of course. No one knows about you. You have an ex-wife and three different kids by three different women, and a long list of ex-girlfriends on top of that..._Till is the exception, not the rule,_ you tell the others. _No one can know,_ you always tell me. Maybe someday. But you’re not ready. And yet Paul has tasted your lips every night onstage, more than me, Daddy. You tell me it’s a joke. Deep down, I’m crossing my fingers that you’re really testing the waters.

I reach my arms out and you let me wrap them around you, nuzzling my face against your stomach. It’s a little softer these days, but it feels just as nice—soft and warm and safe and it smells nice, just like the rest of you. And now you’re running your calloused fingertips through my hair and I’m getting the front of your shirt all wet, but you don’t care, you’re holding me and shushing me gently, whispering _It’s okay Joey, you know you’re my good boy, and Daddy’s got you, Daddy’s gonna keep you safe._

I finally peek up at you and this game—if we can call it a game anymore—continues. It’s time for me to take my turn. Time for me to take my punishment like a man, no, like a boy, your boy. Your eyes search mine for permission, they always do, but it’s unnecessary. I trust you with all that I am and you could do anything to me. I think you know that.

You lead me to the bed, your bed, with your hand pressed warmly against the small of my back. Always the gentleman. You’re taking your shirt off now, and I can’t help it, your chest and your biceps are right there, and you look so strong, and I want to worship your body the way a sculpture of a god deserves, but you take my hands and gently pry them from your warm flesh, reminding me that I only get to touch Daddy like that if I behave.

It takes me a moment to arrange myself across your muscled thighs. I’m already gangly, and being this close to you, sprawled out so intimately for you with my skinny jeans tangled around my knees, controlling my long limbs takes more brainpower than I can manage. You swat me once, playfully, and tell me to quit squirming, because there’s no use in distracting you, but I can already feel you and it’s making me lightheaded.

And then even though you won’t let me touch your arms, not yet, there is no question of the strength in them as your hand comes down against my pale flesh, and you absolutely have my undivided attention again.

“I love you, Daddy, I’m sorry!” I gasp, kicking my feet petulantly, and this part is the game, pretending I hate this while every nerve ending is screaming for more. You do it again, and again, and how am I supposed to count to twenty when nothing exists in my world anymore except your hand?

I’m gasping for breath now, and you’re panting softly, and this time, you don’t stop me when I reach for your sweat-slicked chest, desperately feeling for your heartbeat to ground myself again.

There’s no way you can’t feel it, the way I’m pressed into your thigh, and it aches. And now you’re dragging your nails over my poor abused flesh, and it hurts, it hurts so badly, but I won’t ask you to stop, any touch from you sends me flying.

I’m pliant in your hands as you rearrange me now. You’re still dignified from the waist down, as you slowly peel the last of my clothing away, and your hands are exploring me now, fingers ghosting along the inked lines. I asked you once what about them fascinates you so. “They’re like his scars,” you told me, “each one is its own story,” and at first it drove a knife into my gut that you mentioned him, while we were entwined in each others’ arms, until you kissed the pout from my lips and I realized that even if you love me because I remind you of him, you still love me. I’ll take what I can get.

But back to the present. I’m absolved of my sins, and now, you ask me if I want to make it up to you. “Yes, Daddy,” I plead softly, because I’m not doing this for you and we both know it. It is a mockery of an act of devotion, motivated purely by my own greed. I want to taste you. I want to hear you praising me in choked moans. I want to feel your hands in my hair again. _I want, I want, I want._

“Ich will.” We’re back to that.

Your nimble fingers make quick work of those useless studded straps around your thigh. My hand takes their place, clinging to your leg as I sink to my knees before you. They’re so stupid, but I would never dare to tell you that because on anyone else, Daddy, they would be stupid, but not on you, everything is perfect on you.

“Go on, little unicorn,” you murmur, looking at me like I’m the most precious thing you’ve ever seen. I grab your jeans and your underwear and tug them down past your hips, and I nearly get smacked in the face. You chuckle. I grin up at you. I love your laugh. I love when you make me laugh.

But then my greedy mouth is wrapped around you, and your laugh is abruptly slaughtered by a moan.

I know I’m not the first one to gaze up at you like this. I know I’m not even the first man to gaze up at you like this. But you make me feel like I am. You treat me like I’m doing you a favor. You brush my hair out of my eyes. When I choke in my overeagerness—and I always do, because I’m not good with words, not nearly as good as you are and the language we share isn’t even your native tongue, so this is how I am reduced to expressing myself...I suppose I’m still using my mouth—you pull me back and lovingly tell me to be more careful.

I forget myself, forget what I’m doing, and now I’m just nuzzling against your groin, my eyes falling shut, and you decide it’s time to take your next turn. Your warm, rough hand wraps around my skinny arm and hauls me to my feet. “Lay with me, Joey,” you smile, and by the time I am curled up under the covers, you are naked and it is a beautiful sight.

You slip under the blankets and pull me close. I always feel so awkward beside you, your soft curves and hard lines in equal measure. You are man and woman, both, strength and gentleness, and I...am not. But here in your arms, I don’t care. You love me, and that is enough.

Your lips press against the corner of my own, and I blink back tears again. You’re so loving with me, Daddy, moreso than I deserve, and I try to tell you this, but you replace your lips with your fingertip and remind me that you once were where I was, and if you deserve unconditional adoration, and you do, you always do, then so do I, past mistakes be damned.

And then before I can argue, our bodies are twined together fully, more than just a tangle of limbs, and your eyes are shut and your head is back and I can’t tear my eyes away from the sight of your Adam’s apple as you growl softly. Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve, some people will say—the kind of people who don’t like us anyway—but we are neither, merely Richard and Joey, and nothing could feel more right than this. I giggle at the thought and you pause, glancing down at me with a confused smile. “Something funny, little unicorn?”

“I’ll tell you later,” I grin sheepishly.

“Good, because right now I’m going to kiss you to shut you up.”

You do, and you taste like expensive cigarettes and vodka, and I don’t drink anymore so it nearly makes me sick except that you taste like you, more than anything, and everything is alright again. The headboard is slamming rhythmically against the wall now, and I would worry, because I know Till is on the other side, but he was in this bed last night and he knows, knows that you two share something that most people only can dream of, but that he cannot keep you to himself, any more than I can, and now you’re growling at me, _Goddammit Joey, you’re a drummer, you were born to make a racket, don’t play coy now of all times, he knows it’s your night, let him know how good it feels, he’s probably fucking his fist right now so give him something to think about..._

And then I’m crying out, and I don’t know what I’m even saying but it must have been good because you’re laughing as your cock throbs deep inside me and you’re clamping your hand over my mouth. You’ve changed your mind now, you’re telling me to hush because if I scream any louder I’ll get us both kicked out, and I look down at the mess smeared between our chests and suddenly my eyelids feel so, so heavy.

You kiss me again, breathlessly, before you pull out, and I feel the sudden emptiness all the way up into my chest, and it feels like I only closed my eyes for a second, but in that time, you’ve fetched a washcloth. I let them fall shut again as you bathe me gently, and by the time you climb back into bed and envelop me in your embrace once more, I’m barely even aware of my own existence anymore.

“I love you, Daddy,” I mumble against your chest, but I’m asleep before you can even open your mouth to respond.

It’s okay. I know you’ll tell me again in the morning.


End file.
